Prelude to the Soul
by Blue Persuasion
Summary: Sequel to Inside My Heart Inner demons are hard to conquer. Sometimes a search can turn out to be a life long journey. Especially when the search is to find one's soul. AlNel.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If you've read any of my other fics then you already know I don't own it. If I did then I would just hand it over to Lor so she could get to work ASAP on the sequel.

Note: I guess I should warn you all that this isn't my usual style. It's a bit dark (in my opinion). This is an Alnel fic, so future chapters will resolve more around that aspect. This is also the sequel to Inside My Heart. This chapter takes place before that fic starts.

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Prologue: 

Hate. It's a useless emotion. When harbored, it can eat you from the inside out. It can cloud your thoughts and tamper with your perceptions. It can focus your energy in one way and direct your path in another. It's a duel process of bending it to your will and doing its bidding. Hate. It's a useless emotion, but it has its advantages.

And what of love? Is there such a thing? Pure love - now there's a joke to be felt and not told. With so much in the ways of hate is it possible to love? Or is it only possible to hate those you love? It is the fault of others that cause you to love and in that love it is easy to hate. But that hate extends the boundaries of the soul. It is not possible to truly hate those you love; but it is possible to hate yourself for loving those you hate. Or better put, for loving those you once hated.

It had been a long night and sleep had eluded him once again. For the past two weeks Albel was only allowed a few hours a night. Some nights that privilege was also taken from him. Tonight he sat alone in his room. His only company was the candle that flickered in front of him. His eyes held his stare as the flame leapt and twisted under his faint breath.

He no longer saw fire as he once had. The fire had taken life away from him. The fire had drowned out years of his own life. He had always held contempt for fire. It was as if the fire was a living thing and his silent enemy. That was no longer. Things had transpired and the fire was as it had always been – it was fire.

In the small flame he saw the emptiness that was once his soul. There was a space in him that held nothing. A nothing deep and scarred. It was like a black hole in which nothing survived and nothing was left. All in all, it was the absence of life.

He lifted his gaze long enough to study the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and returned to the task of filling out the official request form. Starting in a few short days if the king allowed, he would be off on his own and searching. Searching for what, he wasn't sure but it was a search he had to take on. His life and soul depended on it.

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Prelude to the Soul

Chapter One

_In fantasy the heroes can slay the beast. In fantasy the enemy is one which can be fought face to face. But in reality our foes dwell in the darkness we want so badly to ignore. Our enemies are the demons which live inside. The demons of our souls._

Albel walked through the desert alone. The desolate land tugged at him with a familiar force. This land before him was as lonely as he felt. In a barren place, it was easy to clear things from ones mind and escape harsh reality.

His thoughts taunted him. His memories conjured ghost of things that had been and things that never were. He needed to reflect on the events that had taken place in the dungeons underneath the castle. He needed to rid himself of this burden. He needed hope but hope was not kind.

Sweat poured from his brow as he set to the task of relieving foe after foe of life. He spent hours, alone, with no one but his sword for company. The only sounds he issued from his course and dry throat were the grunts associated with the swings of his sword. He didn't stop to drink but once an hour. This was his punishment to himself. He wouldn't allow himself to die of thirst, but luxuries were a thing to be denied. The raw pain in his core ached for release. Instead of releasing that pain, he would cause his body to suffer in equivalence.

He thought he was alone, until he heard voices.

The sounds carried over the rock pile which sat close to the pathway back to Surferio. He sheathed his sword and cautiously approached the pile. It was suicide to come out to the desert, and he was weary of anyone who would be in such a place. Of course, he was there, but in his case it was this or a breakdown. If he died in the desert, then that was clearly better then the alternative.

At this point in his life, he felt that his reputation was all he had. He couldn't afford to look incompetent. He needed something, and that was all there was to keep him going. There had been many times he felt the will to give up. After what he had confronted in the dungeons, he felt emptier inside then ever.

The desert was where he started his search. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he was sure he would find it. No matter what it took or how long he had to look. He welcomed the pain but refused to let it win. Had he truly sat to think of his actions then he would surely think himself insane.

He deftly climbed the rocks. The sun was high and the heat almost unbearable. It was at times like this he knew he was still alive. His pain was, to a certain point, his friend.

On the other edge of the rocks was a group of Aquarians. It was a small battle brigade. This was obviously one of their training grounds.

It didn't take but a brief scan for him to locate the brigade leader. A familiar face. He watched the whole training session, curious to see how she was doing after the whole celestial ordeal.

It appeared that she was no longer a member of the Secret Legion, but the captain of the Crimson Blades. He had always seen her as one to follow orders and only take the lead when deemed necessary. He found it odd, yet entertaining, to see her in command. She had been in command before, but this was the first time he really noticed.

From his position, no one would notice him. He had found a spot to observe from that was high and the sun was to his back. If any one did look up, they still wouldn't see him due to the blinding sun.

Wiping the sweat from his face, his eyes locked on the group's leader. She would walk along the line of soldiers watching their form and technique. Once and a while she would stop a soldier and spar. When the soldier failed to fend off all her attacks, she would send them back to town. She did this until she faced the final one.

As with all the others, the woman fell before her. He watched as she shook her head as the final soldier retreated. It would seem that none of the recruits were up to her standards. She stood there alone and returned her daggers to their place on her back. Crossing her arms, she rested her chin under her scarf and closed her eyes. He could see the disappointment on her face.

She kept this stance for a couple of minutes before she walked back in Surferio's direction. He could do nothing but watch her leave. For a brief moment, when she was the only one left, he didn't feel so alone anymore. For a brief moment, his torment had stopped long enough for him to observe life beyond himself.

Once she was out of sight, he climbed off the rock mound and made his way back into the caves. He had already made his camp for the night and the dusk was quickly approaching. He stopped at the entrance to the sandy fields and let his eyes wonder over the dreary scene.

Hope had not been kind to him. But somewhere out there among the dead, there was life. Plants and animals had adapted to live in the desert. There was life in a place marked for death. Perhaps then there was hope for his blackened heart. As his soul cried for release, he sheltered himself from further thoughts. He had much to ponder before he could reach his destination. He had to find what he sought first, before he could clearly see his way.

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That night his dreams twisted form and shape from one fathom to the next. His former foe of fire would appear only to be replaced by another foe – darkness. In his dreams he was trapped in a darkness that was broken only from time to time by various sounds.

"You did this," the phantom voice of his father would chant.

"Truly a disappointment," the phantom voice of his mother would add.

These voices would repeat their words nonstop soon to be joined by other voices from the dead. The sounds of cries his wounded men would issue before death took them added to the chorus. The screams of those he killed in war would ring through the jumbled song.

In the darkness he was surrounded by death.

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It had been a week since he had first stepped foot in the desert. A week and his time was up. He would have to return to Airyglyph and perform his duties until he could take another leave. The week had given him only time to think. Time to ponder and wonder. And a really dark suntan. His time had been spent in the desert and thanks to the gel he had packed; he was tanned and not burnt.

He neared the trading town of Peterny and paused. Normally he would walk right through, or around it, but this time he felt an uncanny urge to linger. He dropped this bag and set to the preparations.

To start, he removed his claw. Thanks to his journeys in the stars, he was given his arm back. After returning home, he had a new claw fashioned to fit over the regenerated limb. Not only did the claw help to define him, it had become a part of him. He was only slightly surprised by the loss he felt without it.

He grimaced at his arm. His right arm had deepened its hue. During his time in the sun he had removed the sleeves from his arm to lessen the heat. Now his left arm was the counter to his right.

He mentally shrugged it off and placed the claw in his bag after removing a light cloak. After the cloth was in place he donned the hood and lifted the bag. For once he didn't want to draw attention to himself or to who he was. It was unexplainable but unavoidable. He felt somewhat childish, but also shrugged that off. In his current mental state not much made sense and he was growing tired of trying to figure it out.

He entered the town and walked straight to the pub. After a week of living on rations, he was ready for a full meal and some mead. He was irritated. He never expected to gain his answers in just one week, but he felt he had yet to even put the smallest of dents in his search.

Determined not to draw attention to himself, he forced himself to enter the pub in a civilized manner. He felt like throwing the doors open and biting off the head of the first person to speak to him. His anger generated from his frustration and his frustration generated from his depression. And his depression generated from his inability to understand himself.

He scanned the room and noticed that only one table was not taken. One table was all he needed and he didn't care. As long as he was able to get his food and drink, not much else mattered. He sat and when asked for his order he was direct, talking only when necessary. The waitress had tried to lure him into conversation by asking where he was from, but one growl and she had decided against any further questions.

He had his hands on the table before him and focused his attention on them until his food had arrived. He began to wonder why he had wanted the meal in the first place. The food before him didn't appeal to him any longer.

He picked at his plate, and after a few bites he gave up. The food was bland and every bite sickened him. He knew there was nothing wrong with the meal. Nothing to warrant his nausea. This was a result of his 'condition'. He pushed the plate to the side and took a sip of his drink. Thanks to his lack of taste, the alcohol gave no sting as it slid down his throat.

He sat with the cup in front of him as he stared aimlessly into the dark liquid. The noise of his surrounding buzzed in his ears. He was reminded that life was still being lived and that things don't stop because of just one man. His somberness weighed on him like a ton of bricks. His shoulders physically slumped under the mental pressure.

Then a familiar voice caught his ear. He turned slightly and peered around the rim of his hood. He had been correct and at the next table over sat none other than Nel Zelpher herself.

He watched with mild amusement, only able to see the side of her face when she turned to respond to someone at her table. He could hear her voice, but her words were incoherent. He didn't try to hear what she said; he simply sat motionless and let the sound of her voice calm him.

He nearly jerked out of his seat at his thoughts. Her voice could calm him. After a week of being alone with no distraction, why was it that just the sound of her voice could have such an effect? He turned back to his cup and drained the remainder of the liquid with one gulp.

"Excuse me sir. Is the meal not to your liking?"

Albel lifted his gaze only slightly to the waitress. "It's fine," he mumbled.

"Then perhaps you would like your cup refilled?"

He answered her by pushing his cup out from him. Once it was refilled she left.

"No." The voice from the table beside him caught his ear again.

Her voice again. He allowed his eyes to wonder back to their pervious activity of watching her.

"Lady Nel, what was it like to be among the stars?"

Nel turned to look at the soldier. "I would rather not speak of that now."

He could clearly identify the discontent in her voice. For an instant he felt she understood. Perhaps he was not the only one affected by the truth. But then again, he had never been a religious man. He didn't feel empty in the absence of a god. He felt empty in the absence of…he wasn't sure what he lacked. That's why he had burdened himself with his search.

He guzzled down his drink and left the pub. The night had been long and for the first time in a week he would sleep in a bed and not on the hard ground. He almost felt he was allowing himself too much. He had taken refuge in his own self inflicted punishment. But he knew too many questions would rise if he returned Airyglyph and was found sleeping on the floor. He had to work himself back enough to at least fool everyone to believe that nothing was wrong.

The bed he would sleep in tonight was just another way to act through the show he would have to put on.

End Chapter One

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Blue thought: Yeah, re-reading that it sure sounds really depressing to me. Well, I'm going to take a chance and put it up anyway. Like I said, this will be an Alnel fic. It won't all be as depressing though. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: You know the drill...

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_Time. Something we all have, but can never own. A fleeting thing that takes a lifetime to understand and an instant to lose. _

Prelude to the Soul

Chapter Two

Clair paced the floor beside the table. "I'm sorry, but this is an order straight from the Holy Mother herself."

Nel involuntarily winced at the word holy. Sitting at the table she kept her face buried in her hand. "So she thinks the same?"

Clair leaned on the table opposite of Nel. "If you don't stop Nel, you'll end up killing yourself and your subordinates."

"Kill them?" Nel responded in aggravation. She lifted her head and looked her friend in the eye. "If they are unable to learn then it will be their incompetence that kills them!"

"You are pushing them and yourself too hard."

Nel pushed herself up on her arms and stood. "No, I'm not pushing anyone hard enough. If war starts and they are not ready then we can only expect failure."

Clair gave her a stern look. "Everyone agrees that you need this. You are not conducting yourself accordingly. You need a break and you're going to take a break. You are not to return to work for a month. I don't care if you spend the whole month locked in your room."

Nel half growled at her. "Fine! It's not like I have a choice in this anyway." She pushed herself off the table and turned to the door.

"Nel," Clair called. "Please, try to calm yourself. Really, you're acting more like Albel then yourself."

Nel didn't respond. She walked hastily out of the room, out of the mansion and into the dusk. Her mind was half numb and all she wanted to do was break down into tears. But her pride was too stubborn.

Holding on to any dignity she had, she made a straight path to the shop before it closed. After a quick walk through she left with the supplies she would need. After packing the bag she had purchased with the supplies, she set it over her shoulder and left Arias.

She walked the path until she was halfway to Kirlsa before leaving it and settling herself near the rocks. She was hurt by Clair's words. She was hurt by the way she was looked at by her friends and the queen. In essence, she was hurt by everything.

She could admit to herself that Clair was right. She was pushing everyone too hard. But she didn't push anyone harder then herself. She was doing anything she could to escape the memories that haunted her.

She dropped her bag and shook her head. "Oh Apris, what am I doing?" She chuckled sarcastically at herself. Old habits were hard to break. "Yeah, Apris…Just a name, Nel. Just a name. A name with no damn meaning!"

She gritted her teeth. Ever since facing 'The Owner' she had felt angry. She was angry at herself, at all her teachings… She was angry at everything and everyone. There was no one she could talk to that would understand. No one she could expect to believe that she had confirmed all the teachings of the church as a lie.

She set up camp. For tonight she would separate herself from everyone; something she had been reluctant to do since she had gotten back to Elicoor. In truth she was scared to be alone. She was afraid that everyone would disappear. As stupid as the idea was, it hung heavy on her. Her burden was her own. She refused to share it with anyone but pleaded at the same time for someone to lighten the load.

She knew it was up to her to help herself. The things she kept inside were eating her alive. She needed to let go and move on; but that was easier said then done. She had come to that conclusion but had no idea how to make it happen.

She poked the fire, bringing more life to the blaze. She knew she wasn't acting like herself. She knew she was alienating those around her. Somehow she had a month to fix it. She only hoped it would be enough time.

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The days had grown dull and almost unbearably boring. The day that had just passed was no exception. Albel shifted his weight as he stood outside the mansion doors. Woltar had just excused him and he wasn't due back at the castle for a few days.

Still, a few days were a few days. He watched in silence as the last of the purple hazy drowned from the horizon. Without a word he walked through the mansion gates and into the street. His mind was not set on a destination as his feet set in the habit of motion.

He hardly noticed the ground that moved under him. With each step he took he made multiple attempts not to think. His depression had only worsened and he felt more lost then ever. Of all the burdens he carried; one weighed heavier on his heart. That was the fight he had endured shortly after his return home.

Luther had been a mad man drunk on power. The power he had was never meant to be handled by any human. No mortal could contain that power and corruption was inevitable. Luther's actions were not excusable, only understood. Albel's understanding of the man who claimed to be a god was his weapon. It was the only weapon that helped him when he was faced with an evil greater then he had ever faced.

He had never spoke of his encounter; and doubted he ever would. He felt no guilt when he reported back to the king. He had no second thoughts when he announced he was unable to find the missing me. He hadn't lied. Those men were gone before he set foot in the catacombs. Forever gone.

He winced involuntarily at his thoughts. He supposed he had Luther to thank – along with that worthless group of fools – for his survival. Knowledge was true power. He almost laughed at himself. Not long ago he would have called himself weak. But now he wouldn't – couldn't call such actions weak. Not when intelligence had kept him alive where brute strength and battle skills had failed. He now understood the difference between battle intelligence and wisdom.

He still lacked a lot of the latter. So did everyone. Wisdom was a thing that no man could fully comprehend nor wield. Not complete wisdom.

Unnoticed to him, his walk had taken him outside of Kirlsa and into the Aire Hills. He stopped and looked up at the stars. It never ceased to amaze him. His problems were so large to him, but so miniscule compared to the vastness of everything. He was nothing more then a speck. Yet the burdens he carried felt universal.

Out of the silence of night a small sound drew his attention from the sky. It was faint but easily identified. It was a sound he wouldn't allow himself to issue but one he heard every time he closed his eyes.

Someone was crying.

The cries were soft whispers floating nearly undetected on the wind. Each sob rang through his whole body and like a beacon he was drawn to it. He cautiously neared the edge of a rocky slope and hesitated. As idiotic as he felt, he couldn't help but prolong himself. His subconscious fear was to look around the obstacle in his path and see himself crying.

He walked a thin line between sanity and insanity; and he knew it.

Taking a hard swallow, he forced his eyes to view the source of the suffering. His eyes widened slightly with shock. There was a small camp set up. One tent, one small fire and only one occupant sat nestled in the open grove of the rocky wall. She had her knees drawn to her chest and her eyes fixed on the fire before her. He recognized her through unbelieving eyes. Her face was pale, her eyes distant and she was crying softly.

He viewed her side from a position that would hide him almost completely. He was surprised that his presence went undetected by her. It was obvious to him that her pain drowned out her skills as a spy.

Anger flared through him. The woman sat alone and was unaware of her surroundings. It was a silent suicide to do such and he had to fight back the urge to yell at her. She was vulnerable in so many ways that he didn't know exactly how to react. As much as he knew she needed a shoulder; he wanted to show her his blade instead.

She moved sluggishly to lie on her side. The top of her head now faced him as she closed her eyes. Before long her chest rose and fell to the rhythm of sleep.

"_Fool! She'll be dead by morning,"_ he thought. The grove she had chosen was surrounded on all sides but one with rocky unforgiving terrain. The odds of an attack from any of those sides as slim. But nothing would prevent an attack from the side that was clear and obstacle free. The side he stood on as he watched her.

He turned away from the sleeping woman and stood with his back to the rocks. He had nowhere to be and no need to move. He grunted too softly to issue any noise as he sat on the ground. Occasionally his eyes would drift over to the camp.

He was unaware that in that silence he was sharing his solitude.

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The first rays of light danced along her closed eyes; forcing her to open them. Upon waking, Nel cringed at her own disappointment. Though she did not want to die, she had not wanted to wake either. She felt herself in contradiction and turmoil.

She sat up and pushed the blanket off. The warm fabric fell beside the cold spot that once housed a small fire. For a long moment she looked at the rocks in front of her; blinking and yawning. When she did move, she gathered the blanket and placed it back in her bag.

She paused and darted her head around the area. She was well aware of the state she had been in the night before, but she also knew she was not one to wake in the middle of the night and not remember her actions. She was sure that she had not remove the blanket from her bag.

When her scan didn't turn up anything she checked her bag. Everything was as it should be. Finally she inspected the ground around her. It didn't take long for her eyes to find a second set of footprints.

She jumped up quickly and approached the opening to the crevasse she had chosen. The land was clear from any intruder. Whoever had been there was gone; leaving only a small hint that someone was there to begin with.

Her first thought was that Clair had followed her. Clair always worried for her and these actions would be very much like something she would do. But the footprints indicated otherwise. The prints were too large to be Clair's. These prints pointed to the fact that the intruder was most likely a male rather than female.

It was disturbing to realize that her spy instincts had not alerted her to the presence of an intruder. Had she been so out of it that she was losing her skills? Perhaps Clair was right; her current mind set would do nothing but harm. It could have gotten her killed.

She tried to push her curiosity to the side as she gathered her supplies. She wondered who would cover her in the night. Who would sit at the rocks and not wake her. Once her things were packed, she inspected the ground again.

Her visitor was clearly a man. He had entered her camp only once to remove the blanket from her bag and had spent the rest of his time sitting in one spot. The thing that puzzled her the most was who it could have been.

Adray would never have done such a thing without waking her. He would have insisted that she talk to him. Any of her male subordinates would have been too noisy to pull off a stunt and not alert her.

She found her way back to the path and stopped. She did not want to return to Arias. Her only option now was to head to Kirlsa. She hoped that some time away from home would help. For her own sake, she had to find someway out of her despair.

End Chapter 2

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Blue's Afterthoughts: This is the result of editing All in All and then starting on the second chapter of this one. Honestly, out of all of them I see Nel having the hardest time coping with the fact that they are 'programs'. And I was also working on my other fic and like CAT pointed out in the review – Nel has a ruthless streak. I can see her becoming angry at herself as a sort of 'self defense' mechanism. But she's also level headed enough to understand herself and know she's channeling her anger in the wrong way. 

As pointed out by BlueTrillium – I'm hinting to the encounter with Romero but don't know if I'll go into any detail. Honestly I wouldn't know how unless it just hit me out of the blue. What I see though is the battle with Romero being more of a mental fight then a physical fight (as I hinted to in this chapter). I did think it would be a little helpful to Albel to see that others have problems also – though his problems aren't shared it might help him not to feel so alone.

Okay, that's all for the author's notes. I need to stop before I make this longer then the chapter itself. My minds on overtime – I'm feeling philosophical.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Disclaim, disclaim, disclaim – you get the picture XD

Note: Sorry for the long wait. I have good news! I hope to have another chapter of Star Crossed Enemies out soon. Keep your fingers crossed and while you wait please enjoy chappie three for Prelude. Oh, and a special thanks to BlueTrillium! I got the idea to use the Nox mansion from her most wonderful fic.

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_The darkness is neither friend nor foe. In the darkness is where the monsters lay in wait. In the darkness dwells the unknown. Answers too swarm in the darkness for the mind is encased in the skull and shunned from light._

Prelude to the Soul

Chapter Three

A thin layer of fog covered the glass in a rigid circle. Albel kept his breath short and shallow so not to restrict his view as he peered from the window of his late father's mansion. The one place he had restrained from returning for so long was the one place he had set on going.

He stood at the second story window and watched as the ignorant people treaded in blissful unawareness below him. As he stood high above the ground, his precious Crimson Scourge rested abandoned at the front door. It would stay there until he was ready to leave. The things he needed to fight within the cold walls that surrounded him could not be killed by the blade.

It was the same as it had been a few short months ago. His blade had provided little protection. When it came time to fight, his sword was nothing more than a toy. A useless toy. The same held true for his claw but he kept that with him. For now his claw was an item of security.

His claw also signified his reasons for returning to the place his father had raised him. His memories of his mother were hazy at best. She remained faceless to him, her image drowned by years of loss, but her smile burned brightly in his dreams. The one good thought he had held on to the longest was the smile of a mother. His mother.

He restricted the image of her warm smile from his mind. He was there to punish himself and would not let her in to help him. He was a man and he had to do this on his own.

Behind the glass it was midday. The sun was high and the streets below were well lit. Inside it was the deepest of nights. Inside the mansion and inside himself. Both were the same…both were the true image of gloom.

In the dark catacombs that ran under Airyglyph he had lost something very precious to him. Something that was irreplaceable. More irreplaceable then his pride could ever achieve in esteem.

He hoped that facing the ghosts of his past would help to regain a small ounce of what was taken from him. He had been stripped and gutted. He had been broken beyond all restraint but refused to give up. His punishment would endure until he was able to have that one thing back.

His eyes had drifted lazily among the citizens below with no destination. Every detail was lost. Though he saw the view before him, his mind ignored it. That was, until something caught his attention. His vision had blocked all color from the lifeless life below him, yet through the many shades of gray one color burned. Red.

He focused his eyes and snorted in fake amusement. Walking the street below was none other than Zelpher. She was walking with Woltar. No doubt the two were making it known to walk in public to uphold public relations.

What made him take notice was the expression on each face. Woltar was clearly amused and Nel was not happy at all. She looked as if she would start to yell at any moment.

He watched until the two were out of sight. Once they were gone he stepped back from the window to the room that had once been his own. His eyes darted along the dark corners. The room was dead. It had died almost a decade ago. There was no life left; not even the life he had brought with him.

He felt as dead inside as the room. Walking softly he set to wander. The floor creaked under each step and the long neglected wood threatened to give way under his feet. Even in death the house cried. It cried as he did with no tears to show.

Tonight he would stay within the entombing walls. He would force himself to do the one thing he had dreaded more than anything. He would stay and attempt to face his ghosts. Perhaps then he could recover what it was he had lost. What it was he had stolen from him.

The one who had represented death had forced from him his most valuable of assets.

Albel fell to his knees and heaved. Just the thoughts from that day and him being in the place he had put himself were overwhelming. His true flesh hand grasped desperately at his chest as he wheezed. He swallowed back all urges to lose control.

He forced his lips tight and stood; using the rail for support. He gave the stairs one look before walking unsteadily away. Below him was freedom. Right now freedom was his enemy. If he could stay then maybe somehow he could find a way to amend his sins.

If that was possible he had a chance at finding what he had lost. He had a chance at regaining his soul.

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Nel retraced her steps. Walking with Woltar had been both stressful and strenuous. It wasn't that she did not like the man. She was mad at herself _for_ liking him. She had never asked and he never told how he came into possession of her father's daggers. That was something she knew was best unknown. But on a level deep in her subconscious she knew. She knew the truth and was angry at herself for the respect she held for him.

There was also a new tension that took over for the old tension of being on foreign soil. The sensation was one of self infliction and doubt. She didn't know why, but she cursed herself for being so familiar with Airyglyph.

As childish as it was, she feared change. The end of the war was for the best. Her journeys with the others among the stars was far from pointless. Still, the things she had learned had altered her perceptions and she feared it was for the worse.

She stopped briefly in the middle of the street. The daily traffic was dwindling. Life went on no matter what the change in tide provided. Her life didn't need to stop, but she was unsure as to how to get it started again.

Reflexes alerted her attention to her right. The wind had played its tricks on her by blowing the withered branches of a rotten tree. The branches brushed against an equally deteriorating shutter. The house beyond the tree was known not for what it once was but for what the kids called it today.

It was 'the haunted house' formally known as Nox manor. A chill ran down her spine and she hugged herself. Resuming her stride, she couldn't help but to wonder what had been so horrible that Albel had not returned to the mansion.

She didn't dwell on it. The same could be asked of her. After her father had been officially declared dead, she had finally opted to sell the house she grew up in. The house held nothing but fond memories, but those memories cut her deeper then any sword could.

Her happiness of days gone only made her miss such joy in days she lived afterward.

She didn't stop until she reached the inn and was locked in her room. She let her memories focus briefly on the faces of those she had traveled with. She wondered if any of them felt as she did. She could only hope they did not. It wasn't something on wished for. No one wanted to feel dead inside.

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So many months had passed by that Albel had lost track of time. It had been nearly two years since he had spent that night in his father's mansion. Even in thought he could not make himself accept the fact it was now his. It would always be his father's home, since it would never feel like home to him.

He had busied himself with work and more journeys. All his journeys were taken alone. After his time in the mansion he began to expect to run into a certain Aquarian on his journeys but time had been cruel. He could not fathom why he was disappointed at the end when both answers and her face eluded him. He had not seen her in years and it troubled him.

He never lingered on those thoughts. Nor did he call her image to his head unless he was on a journey. And the times he did think of her he quickly destroyed any thoughts and refused to dwell on them. His answers did not rely on her and they never would.

Over time he had not found what he sought. He had learned to deal with the life he had and the alterations in its pattern. He had come to the conclusion that happiness was something that would never exist. He had been lost for years and no longer held hope for a change.

As he entered the king's chamber, he did not care for what task he would be sent on. If he lost his life in the line of duty at least he would have been able to obtain some honor to his country. Concern for himself had left him. He heard the rumors about him that had floated around. About how he had become less arrogant and more withdrawn. He simply shrugged at this as he had done before. No one knew what he really was and idle talk did nothing to affect him. No one knew him – not even himself.

Albel halted his steps only a few feet from the worried king. Instead of sitting on his throne, the king was pacing the floor. Albel stopped and rested his clawed hand on the hilt of his sword. Almost immediately a silent warning rang through him courtesy of the Crimson Scourge itself. His breath became short and an unexplained excitement passed through him. He kept his features lax but could not stop his anticipation. Only on rare occasions was he given such warning. Each time it indicated that danger was near. Life threatening danger.

"Albel, we have received reports of lights on the northern horizon. There is something truly strange about them. I wish for you to take a team and investigate." The king spoke sharply and fast. As he paced he had only glanced at the swordsman but had not held him in his sight as was his normal habit.

Albel nodded. Only on few occasions had he seen the king in such a state. His awareness went on an automatic heightened alert.

The king looked at him and returned his nod. "My concern is not only the lights. The animals from that region have fled their homes. Even the dragons and porcupine have left the area. The lights have been accompanied by foreign noises and are located far too close to the castle for ease."

Albel turned his back to the king and proceeded across the room to the exit. "Leave it to me," was all he said as he left the chamber.

He took no time in assembling a team of soldiers. Under his command, he led six of his finest into the mountains in the north. Each man was responsible for his own supplies. Albel had been sure to keep a supply pack ready when needed. As much as he wanted to ignore the bag and leave it behind; he knew better. He strived for self punishment but was not yet suicidal. Not yet.

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Nel left for Peterny without so much as a word to anyone. She never questioned the queen's orders. She had always done as told with no thought; but the paper in her hand weighted heavy on her.

She had yet to rise above the slump she had been in for years. The loss of emotions she had experienced, as well as the depression she fought were in no way to help her in what she had to do. In her hands was a simple note, wrote in the queen's own handwriting and sealed with Aquaria's holy seal.

The hour had yet to grow late but clouds bountiful with rain blocked most of the day. Without a thought, she placed the letter in her shirt and close to her heart. It was the only place she would assure it would remain untouched by the rain.

The hand had just finished its task of securing her mission when the rain feel in abundance. She had only made it half way to Peterny and was already soaked. She continued to walk steadily as running would do no good but to tire her.

Her boots collected mud as she treaded the path. Any creature who refused to seek shelter from the storm met its end at the tip of her daggers. She felt like one of those machines she had seen in her adventures from years past. A machine who acted without thought. Perhaps that was what she had become. A machine with no heart.

As she reached the gates of Peterny, she shivered. The weather was warm even in the presence of rain but on the inside she was chilled to the bone.

She made no stops as she crossed through the town to the inn. Even though night was hours away she wished for a bed and a quiet place to think. Ignoring any looks she received as she entered the inn, she reserved her room.

Tonight she would stay in Peterny. Tomorrow night her stay would be in Arias. On the third day she would enter Kirlsa for the first time in a year. That was where her mission ended and her new role began. Her life had become her missions and therefore was not much of a life but more of a role. She had nothing to contribute to anyone, lest of all herself. She had long ago lost her will to live.

She had, in fact, become an organic machine.

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Albel managed to keep his blood from over boiling as another soldier fell at his feet. He had watched one man struck down and now another. Both of the fallen men were under his charge. Both men had followed his command to attack and they had paid the ultimate price. Despite his calm and ready pose, Albel hated to see his own men fall at the hands of the enemy.

Most would read his expression as anger at his foe and disapproval at his men. Hidden inside the crevasses of his being were his true emotions. Anger spread like wildfire through him – this was true. For his men, there was no disapproval. He knew each was a capable soldier. Their deaths fell on him. He commanded their slaughter. Even if his intent was not to see them die, it was his fault.

He bit down hard on his lip as he studied his opponents. It had taken two days for him to make it to the clearing in the mountain's valley. The reason for the delay was in the search. '…lights on the northern horizon' was far from an exact location. Around midday on the second day they found the location they sought; along with an ambush.

Something about his new enemy rung heavily with familiarity. He might put on airs of non-concern, but he was extremely observant. He knew immediately that the enemy was no native to Elicoor. They carried weapons like those the bossy-wench Maria had wielded.

That girl had racked his nerves. She was much like him and it irked him to be in her presence. Like him, she was a leader and good at masking her true feelings. While traveling those years ago, he had found himself in a strange new environment. In order to survive he had to swallow his pride and follow. Albel Nox was not a follower. He loathed the idea itself. Yet, he had followed her and the others in the name of survival and victory.

He was not a follower but he was willing to do what was needed to win. He made a choice: he became a follower to keep from becoming defeated.

When he looked back he could clearly identify the one element of that trip that kept him anchored. He never showed it, but fear had been one of his companions when among the stars. His fear was shared and with that revelation came comfort. The others knew the technology. The others had foresight on what to expect. Four of them did not. Out of the four, he could identify his fear marked on one.

He wondered if Adray feared anything. The old fool would jump head first into a pit of lava without a second thought. Perhaps he had been apprehensive but as a seasoned soldier he was not one to let anything hinder him. As much as Albel should have respected the man, he could not. Whether it was the conflict in personalities or something else, he wasn't sure. He just did not like the man.

Roger wasn't even an option. The boy was intrigued by even the smallest thing and never sat still long enough to really understand what was going on. Like most children, fear was something he had yet to learn in its entirety.

Zelpher. Though not a leader as he was, she was still a leader. Her squad was smaller and her rank under his; but she took what was thrown at her and threw it back. He had to admire the way she handled herself when away from Elicoor. At times he would catch the look in her eyes that mirrored his own feelings. She was scared but refused to give in to fear. She was his anchor. In his own way he had thanked her. He had given her the one thing he did not bestow upon anyone without reason. The one thing he hadn't given any other before her, as no others were deserving of it. He had given her an _honest_ kiss.

-Flashback-

_After many heartfelt goodbyes, Maria transported all the off-worlders away. This left him standing in Arias with the other three Elicoorians._

_Roger, happy to be back where everything was 'natural', quickly darted away with a "See you later." Adray mumbled something about Clair and headed for the mansion. This left Nel and Albel alone at the western gate._

"_Well, Nox, I never would have thought I'd see the day we would work together."_

"_Humph. I was just bored. Nothing more."_

_He could feel her skeptical look bury into him. For a second he caught himself wondering what was going on in her head. What she was thinking about and most importantly – how long she was going to stare at him._

_She stepped closer and looked him in the eyes. "Bored? And what now?"_

_He lifted on eyebrow slightly. "I'll find some other way to amuse myself. What concern is it of yours?"_

_She shook her head. "You'll never change will you?"_

"_Bah."_

"_I see. Knowing you, amusement comes in some form dark and cold."_

_Dark and cold… He was momentarily struck by these words but refused to show it. After all they had been through she still thought of him as dark and cold. She was closer to the truth then she realized and it weighed heavily on him. It was in that instant he understood he needed to find something to hold on to. He had just gotten out of a situation which left no room to think._

_Now, thinking was all he had to do. He knew if he let himself think too much it would kill him._

_A shout, unmistakably from Clair, pulled him from his inner pain. Clair had called for Nel and he knew that she would respond and use it as a way to make her exit from him. She would leave and not look back. If there was ever a time to act, that was the time._

_Before she could turn away from him, he grabbed both sides of her face. He made sure to apply little pressure and to keep the clawed fingers of his claw from her skin. The claw was made to go over his new hand, but it was just as deadly as his old one had been. Giving her no time to break free, he held her while he kissed her._

_When he pulled away, he saw her blush fiercely at him. Her initial expression was embarrassment, then surprise and then anger._

_He smirked. "That didn't feel so cold to me." He turned and started out of the gate. "Perhaps I should thank you for the brief amusement. It's not every day your face matches your hair."_

_He walked steady for the town's exit. His uncharacteristic smirk didn't leave his face until he entered Kirlsa._

-End Flashback-

He smiled briefly as he thought about her face. The shade of red it had become had won its way into one of his few fond memories. As much as he had punished himself in the years that had passed, in a time like this he found he needed an anchor once more.

He charged forward, ready to decapitate the first alien he crossed. He gripped his katana and sprang at the nearest foe. His blade sliced through the air and straight for its target. But the blood never came. As he was in midair, he felt the pinch of something collide with his chest; throwing him from his pounce.

He tried to land on his feet but failed. As his head hit the ground his thoughts scattered and his vision blurred. In a last attempt at coherent thought he understood he would not meet the same fate as his men. They would be allowed to die. He was being drugged and he was unable to escape the grasp of sleep.

End Chapter 3

* * *

Blue's Afterthoughts: Yeah! Finally getting into 'Inside My Heart'! I love this. Now for all of you out there who wanted to know what Albel and Nel were thinking during that fic – here's your chance. Don't worry, since this runs parallel with that fic, I will not go into it all that much. The scenes for this one will be of Albel and/or Nel only. I will add notes to the end to help explain things a bit for anyone who hasn't read that fic. 

For starters, in that fic Albel was given back his left hand. Fayt 'n friends used modern technology to give him back his hand but he still wears a claw. The flashback is from 'Inside My Heart' but in that fic it was from Nel's point of view (ch.5 towards the end) and here it's from Albel's. Also, 'Inside My Heart' will be given some slight editing as this fic goes on so that the two match.

Questions are welcomed. I'll answer them at the beginning of the next chapter.

Oh yeah, and the authoress of 'Inside My Heart' has given me complete permission to use any and all of that fic! O.o (yeah, I forgot to take my medication today XD)


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